


And Dust You Shall Eat

by CircularShades



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Just sad and kinda trippy, Shapeshifting, Yes it is G rated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircularShades/pseuds/CircularShades
Summary: A serpent learns his place in the universe.There is no name yet for what he is. There is no name anymore for who he is. There are memories of effortless flight, of floating in a vast, bejeweled darkness. Now there is ground, and gravity, an unseen force that pins him to it. He is muscle, bone, and scales, writhing and squirming in the sulfurous swamp.





	And Dust You Shall Eat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "snake" prompt in the 666 FicsFicsFics collection! The word count will seem off because I've counted the footnotes.

There is no name yet for what he is. There is no name anymore for _who_ he is[1]. There are memories of effortless flight, of floating in a vast, bejeweled darkness. Now there is ground, and gravity, an unseen force that pins him to it. He is muscle, bone, and scales, writhing and squirming in the sulfurous swamp.

He learns to get around by gripping and releasing the ground in successive undulations. He finds that unless there is a surface to climb, unless he makes a particular effort, he cannot be anywhere _but_ the ground. He has become low, slithering, _crawley_ thing.

All around him are creatures coping with their own transformations. A bulbous, green beast, shiny with mucus, slaps one of its forelegs on the ground and croaks out a concept they are all learning for the first time: “ _Hunger!_ ” A cloud of small black specks swarms overhead, and buzzes out as one: “ _Juzzzt try it._ ”[2]

Bickering, why should anyone be _bickering_ now? He slithers away from the scene quickly. They're liable to destroy one another. Let them.

He remembers having other shapes. He doesn't recall what they were all like. They slip out of his mind when he tries to think. Orbs of light, tongues of fire, wings, _hands_ , he used to have hands, he misses hands already. The stench, noise, and confusion aren't helping him think. A flat, forked tongue flicks from between his lips. _Water._ Nearby.

He stops at the edge of the pool, lifts his head, negotiates the bending of vertebrae and flexing of muscles to rise up further. The water is filmy with oil and soot. His reflection shivers and shifts, but he sees bright yellow eyes, flashes of red.

Something is shivering inside, too. Memories of a shape. His first time changing — doesn't _hurt_ , not anymore than he's already hurting, but it's awkward. Takes working out. Knuckle bones bulge under his scales, fingers uncurl and reach, but the skin still isn't right. His tail divides, then each half must divide again — and again, and again; why all these _toes_?

Rather than disappearing, the new shape moves within and around him: scaly skin rolling up his spine, or a crowd of the creatures draped and looped around his shoulders. Gradually, he learns to compress it into smaller and smaller forms. It helps pass the time while everyone else is jostling for power, playing politics, deciding who gets a throne, as if that hadn't been the problem to begin with.

They tell him to go to Earth. Crawley agrees without argument. He cannot get away from this place fast enough.

* * *

Night falls over the desert. Crawley emerges from the sand and slithers up the western wall toward Eden.

The arm of the galaxy bends above him. This place is light-years away from the galaxies Crawley remembers, but he’d know stars anywhere.

He is climbing toward them. They aren't getting any closer.

He wonders whether he could fly toward them. He does still have wings, and they used to be able to take him between stars in a blink.[3] Wouldn't do to try now, of course. Might be seen — but he wonders.

He pauses at the top of the wall, hidden from mortal eyes by the shadows, taking in the view, smells, sounds. Fire in the east. Fruits, flowers. The singing of insects and the rustling of undergrowth, a busy, brand-new world where he will learn the name of _serpent._

With a sigh of scale on stone, Crawley slips downward, and lowers himself into the Garden.

**Author's Note:**

> 1There is barely a concept of ‘he’ for the beast to associate with himself, but it is the only gender that has yet been defined, and it will do well enough for now.[return to text]
> 
> 2These creatures will be known, for approximately the next two thousand years, as Hopster and Buzzle. They all went through an awkward naming phase.[return to text]
> 
> 3But that was before time had any meaningful significance, to him or the universe at large.[return to text]


End file.
